


Making Wishes in the Dark

by AddictWithAUnicorn



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Or Canon Compliant If You Squint, Pining, Sokka also has a crush Zuko's just too emo to realize it, Zuko has a crush, closet shenanigans, homophobia doesn't exist here because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddictWithAUnicorn/pseuds/AddictWithAUnicorn
Summary: "I'm really sorry, man, but I think I'm gonna have to kiss you," Sokka says, matter-of-factly, as if that's just something you say to your friends when you plot insurrection with them in supply closets.Or, The Boiling Rock goes a little differently.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 116
Kudos: 2719





	Making Wishes in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happens when you're supposed to be writing for your WIP but Zukka is your current emotional support ship and before you know it, two days have passed and you have 3k of these two making out in a closet because why not
> 
> Title is from "My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark" by Fall Out Boy, also because why not

If you had told Zuko a year ago that, after everything, he would finally meet his death in a small supply closet in the most dangerous Fire Nation prison in the world, plotting to help the chief of the Southern Water Tribe escape, he probably would have laughed in your face.   
  
Actually, a year ago, he probably would have set you on fire. And _then_ he would have laughed.   
  
A year ago, Zuko was not exactly what you'd call "living his best life."  
  
"Okay," Sokka says, close enough in the cramped space that Zuko feels a puff of breath on his cheek. "Okay, so this is bad."  
  
Of course, if you had also told Zuko that all of this had started because a boy with a truly terrible sense of humor and really, _really_ nice blue eyes had batted those eyes at him and invoked the magic words -- _"I need to regain my honor"_ \-- then, well. He may have been a little less surprised.  
  
"Bad" was perhaps a bit of an understatement for their current predicament. You see, the problem with high security Fire Nation prisons is that they're not particularly well-suited for open discussions about how to break war prisoners out of said high security prisons. Hence, the supply closet.   
  
It had seemed like the perfect place to strategize: dark, secluded, away from all the traffic and patrols of the main corridors. Private. Kind of. . . intimate, actually, the way the space forced them into each other's proximity, the dim lighting making Sokka's normally icy blue eyes take on a darker shade, like the ocean in a storm --  
  
Anyway.   
  
No one was supposed to be here, is the point.   
  
But the sound of footsteps and jingling keys rapidly approaching down the long corridor outside would seem to suggest otherwise.   
  
"I thought you said this hallway was all but deserted," Zuko snaps, because it has to be said and because being calm in stressful situations isn't exactly his strong suit.   
  
"It was!" Sokka snaps back, then hesitates. "I mean, I _thought_ it was. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to stake it out," he admits.   
  
"And you mention this _now?_ " he demands, gesturing at the door, at the sound of footsteps just outside getting closer and closer, at the _everything_ about this situation.   
  
Sokka merely shrugs, dismissive. "It wasn't important until now."  
  
Zuko opens his mouth, changes his mind, closes it. "Please tell me you have a plan to get us out of here, at least."  
  
"Of course I do!" Sokka insists, crossing his arms defensively (his very nice, very toned arms, Zuko notices). Then, he amends, "Or I will, if you give me a few seconds."  
  
Zuko takes a deep breath. A few seconds. He can do that. Sokka's gotten them this far, after all. If anyone can come up with a good excuse as to why they're both hiding out in this closet that doesn't include them plotting against the Fire Nation, it's Sokka.  
  
A few seconds pass.   
  
"Oh!" Sokka says, excitedly. Then, " _oh_."  
  
"What?" Zuko demands. "You have an idea?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean, but it's kind of --" Sokka trails off, a note of insecurity in his voice.   
  
And it's that, somehow, that settles something in Zuko. Because maybe he hasn't known Sokka for very long, but he knows that Sokka is brilliant and logical and funny and creative. He knows that he's strategic, that he thinks outside the box and knows how to improvise, how to work with what he's given. Zuko doesn't trust very many people, never has, but he knows that even now, he trusts Sokka with his life.   
  
"Do it," he says, without hesitating. "If you've got a plan, do it. I'll follow your lead."   
  
Sokka looks stunned by this for a moment, and if it weren't for the poor light, Zuko would almost say he was. . . blushing?  
  
Then:   
  
"I'm really sorry, man, but I think I'm gonna have to kiss you," Sokka says, matter-of-factly, as if that's just something you say to your friends when you plot insurrection with them in supply closets.   
  
_Is_ that something people normally say to their friends?   
  
Zuko wouldn't know. 

His brain stopped working what feels like ages ago, repeating the word "kiss" on a loop and reminding him, unhelpfully, of the fact that this isn't even the first time he's considered what it would be like to kiss Sokka. 

He's spent. . . a lot of time thinking about it, actually. More than he'd ever admit. 

He's thought about what Sokka's lips might feel like against his, if they would be warm or slightly chapped. He's wondered where it might happen, if it happened at all; maybe it would be around the campfire after everyone else had gone to sleep, when they sometimes stayed up late and looked at the stars and swapped stories about turtle ducks and tiger seals, about long, hot summers and even longer, colder winters. He's daydreamed, endlessly, about what it would be like if Sokka could ever feel the same way about him, and he's catalogued, even more endlessly, every mistake he's ever made that he knows makes that impossible. 

He's imagined a lot of things; he's never imagined that it would actually happen. 

He's never imagined it would happen like _this_. 

Something like panic must register on his face, because Sokka is quick to reassure him, "I know, _I know_ , okay? But there's not a lot of reasons why people sneak off in supply closets, okay, and unless you've got a better idea --"

Zuko does not have a better idea. He takes a small step forward, takes Sokka's face between his hands, and kisses him. 

Sokka stills for a moment, just long enough that Zuko briefly considers the merits of abandoning the closet altogether and jumping straight into the boiling river outside. But then Sokka makes this little _mmhhh_ sound into Zuko's mouth and suddenly there are hands on his waist and he's being pulled closer, into Sokka's arms, and _oh_. This was definitely a good plan, this was the _best_ plan, no one has ever had a plan better than this -- 

Sokka's lips are warm against his, and his hands leave little sparks of heat where they roam up his sides, across his back, down to his hips. He stumbles back, or Sokka stumbles forward, and Zuko's back hits the wall. Everything turns to slow motion, every sensation screaming at him, demanding his attention at the same time: Sokka's mouth pressed urgently against his, his breath coming in little gasps that Zuko wants to swallow; Zuko's hands resting in the shorter sides of Sokka's hair, soft and sharp like velvet; Sokka's body surrounding his, pressing him into the wall in a way that grounds him and makes something inside him feel like he's falling through the floor, all at once. 

Zuko has actually, physically redirected lightning through his body before; he tries not to dwell on how similar this feeling is. 

He wonders, vaguely, how he could have spent so much time daydreaming about this exact moment and still, it's nothing like he imagined -- it's better, it's so much better than anything he could have pictured, better than anything he even knew was possible. 

He wants to savor it, wants to commit every feeling to memory in case this never happens again ( _don't ruin it, don't think about how this is a fluke, don't think about how Sokka would never do this unless he absolutely had to_ ), but seconds go by, then minutes, and nothing happens. The door stays firmly closed, and Sokka's tongue remains firmly in Zuko's mouth, and no one shows up to force Sokka's tongue out of Zuko's mouth and arrest them both for treason. 

With every ounce of willpower he has -- and he has a considerable amount, but he has to summon a few extra ounces of it specifically for this occasion -- he pulls himself away. Sokka only did this because they were both in danger, he reminds himself sternly; if the danger is passed, he won't let himself take advantage of Sokka like that. Not when Sokka doesn't even know how Zuko feels about him, doesn't know that this moment means something more to him than just a good cover story. 

"I think --" Zuko manages, his breath coming out strangled, "I think they're gone."

"Oh," Sokka breathes, sounding almost. . . disappointed? No, it must be relief. He's relieved that they didn't get caught, and Zuko is infatuated and therefore has unreliable judgment. That's all it is. 

They're both quiet for a moment, still standing in each other's space, the room completely silent other than the sound of both of them trying to catch their breath. 

"Do you think," Sokka begins slowly, "we should do it some more?"

What. 

"What?" Zuko asks, confused. 

"Okay, but hear me out," Sokka says, as if Zuko is arguing with him, as if Zuko has any idea what's happening here, _at all_. "Because what if -- what if they come back, and -- and we need an excuse, and then we just don't have one, huh? What about _that?_ "

"What," Zuko repeats. 

"It could be a trap," Sokka adds, insistent. "They could be, y'know, lulling us into a false sense of security, or whatever. It could be one of their tactics. They're probably waiting right outside the door as we speak, ready to arrest us unless we start kissing again."

"Um," Zuko says. 

"And it's actually kind of a brilliant plan, okay," he continues, and by this point, Zuko isn't even sure if Sokka is trying to convince _him_ or trying to convince himself. "Because everyone knows that PDA makes people uncomfortable, right? So even if someone did catch us in here, as long as we're kissing, we're safe. It's practically foolproof."

It occurs to Zuko, then, that Sokka is. . . rambling. 

He's _rambling_ , and that means he's _flustered_ , and Zuko has absolutely _no idea_ what to do with that. 

Unless --

Oh.

_Oh_. 

"Sokka," he says, then stops because he really, _really_ doesn't want to be wrong about this. "Sokka, do you -- ?" He takes a breath, steels himself. Reminds himself that the boiling river outside is still an option if he's wrong about this. 

But then he looks at Sokka, really _looks_ at him: at his averted gaze that keeps darting towards Zuko, then darting away just as quickly, only visible as little flashes of blue in the dark; at his slim, toned arms, wrapped protectively around himself; at his lips, still slightly red from a kiss that was maybe a little too enthusiastic to be considered strictly necessary. 

He looks at Sokka, who's trying desperately to convince Zuko -- and maybe, more importantly, trying to convince himself -- that this was smart, that it was the right move, that it makes sense. That it's okay, what just happened between them, what might happen between them again. 

Zuko doesn't think he's wrong about this. 

"If you wanted to kiss me," Zuko says finally, carefully, "I would be. . . okay with that." Then, deciding he needs to be clear about this, he adds, "Even if it wasn't a good plan, I would -- I would still want to kiss you. If you wanted me to."

Zuko expects for his heart to be beating nearly out of his chest at the admission, expects the shiver of nerves and the impending fear that he may have just permanently damaged any hope he ever had of being _friends_ with Sokka, much less anything else, but he definitely doesn't expect the tiny spark of hope he feels in his chest for the the first time as he looks at Sokka now. 

Because Zuko's never exactly been a _hopeful_ person before, okay? But now, he sees the boy in front of him -- this beautiful, fierce boy who breaks into prisons like it's nothing, who always knows the right joke to make when things get too heavy, who works so tirelessly to protect the people he cares about and goes out of his way to be kind, even when you're the son of his worst enemy and he has no reason to trust you, much less be _kind_ to you -- and it occurs to him that, maybe, possibly, this is one of those rare, incredible things that _isn't_ going to go horribly wrong. 

Then, Sokka grins at him, wide and electric, and the spark of hope in his chest ignites. 

"Okay," Sokka says, "okay, we should try this again."

"Try the. . . the kissing, you mean?" Zuko asks hesitantly, trying not to sound as pleased about the idea as he is. 

Zuko, personally, thinks that they should _absolutely_ try the kissing again. 

"No," Sokka says, and Zuko's heart drops for a split second before Sokka trips over himself to explain, "WAIT, NO -- _YES!_ I mean _yes_ , the kissing should _definitely_ happen again! I just meant, uh, I wanted to try the -- the whole --" he stops abruptly, taking a deep breath. 

"Zuko," he starts over firmly, looking him in the eye and taking his hand, and _wow_ , just the sound of his own name coming out of Sokka's mouth makes him feel giddy, like a child with a crush -- which, you know, kind of isn't that far from the truth, but whatever -- "I really want to kiss you. Like, frankly, kind of a ridiculous amount."

Zuko lets out a little involuntary laugh at that, because it's one thing to imagine it, but _holy spirits_ is it another thing entirely to hear it out loud. Before he can even shame himself for the reaction, though, Sokka smiles even wider, looking completely endeared, and that pretty effectively shuts Zuko's internal monologue up. 

"And, uh -- I guess you should also know that I really like you," Sokka admits, and oh, he really is blushing. Zuko is struck by the urge to kiss him there, just to see how warm it feels against his lips. "Not because it's a convenient plan," he clarifies, "or because I don't want us to get caught. But because you're -- _you_."

Sokka seems to think this is a sufficient explanation for why anyone, much less someone as beautiful and funny and brave as Sokka, would want to kiss _him_ , of all people, but the confusion must show on his face, because Sokka smiles at him, softly, and lifts a hand to his cheek. 

Zuko almost raises a hand to stop him -- a natural reflex by now, from how many people have thought their curiosity gave them the right to reach out and touch his scar, to invade his space and invoke his trauma without even _asking_ \-- but Sokka, Sokka's not like that. Carefully, he bypasses the scar to caress Zuko's face, and his touch is soft, gentle. _Safe_. 

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" Sokka says softly, and no, Zuko does not know that. He doesn't know why _Sokka_ thinks that, either, and he just barely resists the urge to correct him. "You're crazy smart, and cool, and you're just -- man, I don't know a lot of people who would risk their lives to break into a place like this, just to help some guy they barely even know."

Zuko wants to defend himself against the praise, say that actually, there's not a lot he _wouldn't_ do for Sokka, but somehow he doesn't think that would help his case. 

"You're probably one of the bravest people I've ever met," Sokka says, all casual, and now Zuko's the one blushing. "No, I'm serious, man. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did, leaving everything behind like that. Turning your whole life around because you knew it was the right thing to do."

Zuko doesn't really know what to say to that, so he just averts his eyes and shrugs awkwardly. "It's not. . . it's not really a big deal," he tries, but at this point, his face is burning and he doesn't really know what to do with his hands and he's not really sure when Sokka decided that Zuko is a good person, because Zuko's not really sure if he's decided that about himself, yet. 

The thing, Zuko is suddenly realizing, is that he's not exactly _used_ to people saying nice things about him. Especially not so many things, all at once, from cute boys who already make Zuko's heart do funny things in his chest even when they do stupid things like poking him with sticks or calling him a jerk but in a nice way that makes him feel like he's in on the joke or showing him his room and telling him about lunchtime because he's new and awkward and _not evil anymore, I promise_ but no one else will really speak to him unless they have to. 

"And I'm not gonna lie, you're also really hot," Sokka adds, grinning, "pun intended." Zuko groans, and Sokka beams, "Get it? Because -- because you're _hot_ , and you're also a _firebender_ , so that makes you, like, _double hot!_ " Zuko rolls his eyes, blushing furiously despite himself, and Sokka leans on his shoulder, laughing gleefully at his own joke, and Zuko is maybe happier than he remembers being in a very, very long time. 

"If I kiss you again right now, will you stop saying weird things about me?" Zuko pleads finally, and he's sure his face has never been this red before. He adores Sokka, okay, but he seriously can't take much more of this. 

"Well, first of all, they're not weird if they're true," Sokka tells him, but then, after a moment of consideration, adds, "but yeah, that'd probably shut me up pretty good."

Zuko grins, feeling loose and happy as Sokka drapes his arms around his neck, tangling his fingers through Zuko's hair. This time, when he leans in and gently presses their lips together, something inside him settles. Oh, there's still the little sparks of heat dancing across every place where Sokka's body touches his, still the lightning-struck feeling of being suspended in midair but knowing, deep in his bones, that he's safe as long as Sokka's arms are around him, holding him close. 

But this time, he knows it's _real_. He knows that somehow, miraculously, Sokka likes him back, and that makes everything brighter and sharper in a way that Zuko didn't even realize until now he'd never felt before. 

He doesn't just _like_ Sokka, he understands suddenly. It's very possible -- likely, even -- that he's already much further gone than that. 

He finds, to his own surprise, that he doesn't mind. 

"For the record," he murmurs softly against Sokka's lips a few minutes later, "I really like you, too."

"That's good to hear," Sokka says, sounding a little lightheaded and a lot happy. Zuko can relate; he may never experience gravity the same way again, if Sokka keeps kissing him like that. 

For a moment, they stand there, bodies held close, their foreheads resting gently together. 

Then, the door bursts open. 

" _Hey_ , what are you --?" a deep voice rings out, accompanied by a nearly blinding burst of light from the hallway. "Oh." The unexpected prison guard takes in their appearance -- their visibly reddened lips, Sokka's messy hair with numerous strands coming loose from his wolf tail (and Zuko's no doubt in similar disarray), both of their stolen uniforms unkempt to a degree that is no doubt far from regulation -- and quickly retreats. "Ah, sorry, that's -- uh, my bad," he apologizes, pointedly looking away from them. "I'll just, uh --" 

Without so much as another glance, the guard swiftly closes the door, hurrying away and leaving them alone, completely unquestioned. 

"It worked," Zuko says, stunned. "I can't believe it actually worked." 

"Well, I can! I'm a genius!" Sokka declares brightly, grinning in that way that makes Zuko feel a little stupid with how much he likes him. "Oh man, I have the best ideas _ever!_ "

Unfortunately, Zuko can't help but agree. 

**Author's Note:**

> As a side note, Suki deserves all the happiness and as such her role in this is kind of a choose your own adventure. Are she and Sokka platonic warrior BFFs? Is she living her best sapphic life with the other Kyoshi warriors? Do her, Sokka, and Zuko begin polyamory negotiations shortly after this fic? You decide!
> 
> Also, if anyone cares, my atla sideblog is disaster-bi-sokka. Just, y'know. Throwing that out there.


End file.
